Friends
by ThatSupernaturalFangirl
Summary: Being a Winchester was never the easiest thing. At first, high school was just another spanner in the world for Sam and his brother, Dean, but Rushmore High was different...
1. Chapter 1

Being a Winchester was never the easiest thing. Especially with the way Sam's father was nowadays, losing hope in catching the thing that killed his mother and taking it out on him and Dean. Dean was Sam's brother, the best looking thing any small town they visited had ever seen. He was used to hiding under his brother's shadow, but sometimes things got a little too lonely. At first, high school was just another spanner in the works for them both, but Rushmore High was different.

"Sammy!" Dean yelled as he grabbed his brother's duvet and yanked it off him, exposing him to the cold, musky air of the motel. "Come on, kiddo. I know you didn't want to leave the last school, but we have to accept that nothing's permanent in this life. You should now that by now." With a groan, Sam reluctantly swung his legs over the side of the bed and hauled himself up.

"You can leave now, Dean," he said, glaring at his brother. Dean held his arms up in defence and backed out of the room, not before tossing a nonchalant "bitch" at his brother.

"Jerk," Sam murmured. He sighed as he ran a hand through his all-too-long bangs and walked into the one small bathroom the motel room had. Turning on the shower, Sam noticed the room had a set of scales in. Weird, he thought. Not paying any more attention to the scales, he stepped into the shower. Feeling the warm water run down his back was a relief, he could feel all of his muscles loosening up from the tension that sleeping on the crappy motel bed brought. After rubbing in the cheap shampoo and conditioner provided for them, he rinsed himself over once more and stepped back out of the shower and wrapped a towel round himself. Upon opening the door, Sam discovered a very angry-looking Dean. He let out an exaggerated huff and shoulder=barged his way past Sam.

"Jesus, little bro, what took you so long in there?" He asked, slamming the door shut behind him before Sam had a chance to come up with a witty retort. He rolled his eyes and headed back toward his and Dean's room to dry his hair off and put some clothes on. Going for the usual Winchester look, he pulled on some old blue jeans, boots, a white vest and a red plaid shirt which he kept unbuttoned – it was way too hot to bother doing it up. Ten minutes later him and Dean were both ready to leave for school. His brother grabbed the keys off the counter and headed for the front door, followed by Sam. While Dean made sure that the door was locked, Sam headed straight to the Impala – the only home he'd ever truly known. That was something he was jealous of his brother for, Dean knew what it was like to have a home, a loving family...Sam's thoughts were interrupted by Dean entering the car and slamming the door behind him.

"Hello? Earth to Sammy?"

"Don't call me Sammy. Sammy was a chubby twelve year old," he bit back with a tone cold as ice.

"All right, Sam." Dean replied, "Don't get your knickers in a twist. Anyway, you'll need to cut that attitude out if you want to make a good impression at Rushmore," he said as he pulled out of the motel parking lot.

The drive to school was somewhat tense, and Sam's mood worsened as they pulled into school. Hundreds of eyes turned towards the loud noise of the engine to see the sleek, black, classic American muscle car. Girls flipped their hair and tried to see if they could check out the driver, completely ignoring Sam as he stepped out. Dean's eyes brightened as he looked at the girl population of the school. Well, the female population.

"Have a good day, kiddo," Dean said as he ruffled Sam's hair and walked past him towards a group of girls that were looking at him and not so discretely giggling at their new found crush.

"Yeah...sure," he whispered to himself as he walked towards the main office to collect his timetable.


	2. Chapter 2

s Sam made his way through the corridors, he noticed that this school was very overpopulated. So far he had seen at least five different cliques, none of which he foresaw himself hanging out with. Eventually he managed to wade his way through the heaving crowd of pubescent teenagers and to the main office towards the front of the building. Trust Dean to have dropped me off at the back car park, he thought to himself as he realised that they had parked at the furthest possible point from where they needed to be. Suddenly, he felt anxious as he walked up to the glass windows of the office and spoke to the woman behind them, who was seemingly preoccupied with typing on a computer and ignoring Sam.

"Can I help you?" She eventually asked in that bored tone that people develop from saying the same thing a thousand times.

"I'm-I'm Sam Winchester. I'm new here, I came to pick up my schedule," he said, the sentence turning into more of a question as he began to feel uneasy under that woman's cold look.

"Ah, yes, here you go," she handed him a small piece of paper, "enjoy your first day here."

Sam looked down at the slip she had given him; his first lesson was biology. Great, he thought, biology – a subject that I actually like.

As he walked into class, he noticed that all of the chairs in the class were already full, apart from just one. The teacher, Mr. Davenshaw, pointed Sam towards that chair and handed him a yellow book. Dropping his backpack on the floor, Sam sat down next to a girl with tumbling blond locks and rosy cheeks. She was pretty cute, Sam noticed. Too bad she would only have eyes for his brother. He sighed and dropped his eyes to his book, where he continued to make notes through the lesson. Towards the end of class, the girl turned and spoke to him while Mr. Davenshaw was busy making notes on the board about reflexes and synapses.

"Hey," she smiled. "I'm Hannah." Okay, she was really cute, Sam thought. He could feel his cheeks going red, and not from the slight social awkwardness he suffered from.

"Sam," he spoke, "how's it going?"

"I'm pretty good. Well, as good as you can be in a lesson covering the whole of last year's syllabus," she giggled. Sam smiled, looks like she's pretty intelligent. She looked at Sam's face and must have noticed that he'd started to smile, as she looked satisfied with his reaction. "How's your first day at Rushmore going?" She asked him.

"Fine, I guess. There's a lot of kids here, I'm not really used to it," he admitted.

"Yeah, it's such a waste," she said. Sam shot her a confused look and she grinned. "Well, there's about five thousand people in this school, and fifty humans." Sam nodded with understanding as he comprehended what she said. "Hey, I have the best idea! You can come sit with me at lunch; I'll introduce you to my other friends!" She beamed up at him. The thought of meeting the people who such a pretty girl would hang round with terrified him, but he knew he had to man up and go with her, after all, how else was he going to make any friends?

"Yeah, sure," he agreed as the bell signalling the end of class rang. "I'll see you in the cafeteria at lunch." He stood up and made his way out of the classroom.

Second period was a bore, physics was never something Sam was overly interested in, no matter how much he exceeded his classmates. He'd been seated next top a boy called Rory. He was okay, but not the sort of person Sam wanted to get too close to. Finally the lesson finished, meaning Sam could leave and have a break for an hour. As he entered the cafeteria, he noticed Hannah and her friends sitting an a table, with a seat kept empty next to her.

"Hey, Sam! I kept you a chair," she smiled. He took a deep breath as he lowered himself down onto the chair. "This is Ben," she gestured to her right, "Molly," she pointed across from her, "and Adrian." Adrian was the boy sat next to Molly, it looked as though they were dating. "Guys, this is Sam." They all murmured a hello, and Adrian instinctively put his arm around Molly's shoulders. There was a brief awkward silence, during which Sam had the opportunity to wonder if Ben was Hannah's boyfriend. He wouldn't be surprised to find out that he was – in Sam's mind Ben was a lot more attractive and muscular than him. However, he seemed to react as if any other person would when Hannah turned to face Sam and favoured speaking to him over talking with Ben. After chatting with them for at least half an hour, Sam stood up and went to go and buy himself some food. When he checked his pockets he found that he only had 70 cent, meaning he only had enough for something small, if that. He looked over the prices for all the different things and settled on an apple. By the time he had bought his apple and sat down to eat it, it was time for lessons to start again. I'll just eat it later, he thought.

Halfway through his third lesson of the day Sam's stomach started to growl violently, making him realise that had forgotten breakfast because he was in a rush, which meant he had nothing yet that day. He was sure that Dean would fix them both something up when he got home.

The end of the school day came at last, well, for everyone except for Sam. While everyone else was waiting for their friends to walk home with or catch a ride, he was making his way towards the school library. It was the first opportunity he had to check out what books they had, and to make a start on the homework he had been set. Being towards the end of the year, the teachers weren't going to ease him in gently. The place was as empty as a desert, but that was something Sam had grown to expect from school libraries. He placed his bag on the floor and found a desk near the back where he could work in peace. Nearly half an hour had passed before Sam remembered that his apple was still uneaten, but when he thought about it, the lack of food was making him slightly nauseous. He thought it best to leave the apple until he felt like he was actually hungry again, rather than forcing it down himself.

When the clock reached six, the library was almost at closing time. Sam used the little time he had left to walk around the building and into the languages section. To his joy, he found that there were shelves stacked to the brim with Latin books, something he could easily use to persuade his father to allow him extra time at school to avoid training. Breathing a sigh of contentment, Sam made his way out of the library and down the vast steps that lead up to the old building.


	3. Chapter 3

When Sam arrived home from the library, he found that the Impala was already parked out in the front. That meant Dean was already home, well, at the motel. He pushed the door open and dropped his bag on the floor, already heavy from just one day's work at school. As expected, John was nowhere to be seen. Sighing, Sam fell onto the bed and closed his eyes. Dean wasn't in the room, _he must be in the bathroom,_ Sam thought. Sure enough, two minutes later Dean came strolling into the room and threw himself onto his bed. He folded his arms across his chest and began to speak.  
"How was your first day at the new school, Sammy?" he asked, although he already knew what the answer was going to be.  
"It was fine. Actually, it was better than fine. I made a friend."  
Dean was shocked at this answer. Usually when Sammy came home from a new school, he'd go to his room and stay silent, hiding his face in the pillow when his brother asked how things went. But today he didn't seem bothered at all. Dean smiled as he thought of how things were getting better for his brother.  
"Awesome," he grinned. "Is this friend a girl or boy?" he teased. Sam's cheeks went cherry red as he blushed.  
"Her name's Hannah. But there's others, too. She has another friend called Ben, and one called Molly, who has a boyfriend called Adrian," he rushed out.  
"Whoa there, Mr. Popular, you might want to remember to breathe," Dean chuckled as he grinned and stood up, proceeding to ruffle Sam's hair - one of Dean's "older brother" habits which he found quite annoying. "Sounds like you've made quite of few friends, hey?" he said as he continued smiling. "We should talk more about this, but not before we've had something to eat."  
The brothers made their way into the kitchen and looked through the almost-barren cupboards. "Well," Dean said, "unless you want rice that's three months out of date and probably riddled with spores, we're going to need to go to the Diner."  
Walking back into the bedroom and suppressing a sigh, Sam opened up the small wardrobe the motel had, which was filled with his and Dean's few clothes. After sieving through, he found a light jacket that he was comfortable with wearing. A lot of his clothes didn't fit him anymore after having another growth spurt, meaning he had barely any to wear. He pulled the hoodie on over himself and went to join Dean back in the kitchen. His brother grabbed the motel keys off the counter and attached them to the Impala keys, just in case he were to forget them. As soon as they stepped out into the late summer evening, Sam could feel his jacket beginning to stick to him with the sweat he was building up. The walk to the Diner lasted about five minutes - it wasn't very far from the crappy motel they were staying at.  
Upon entering, Sam looked around the joint. The only people he could see in there were a waitress, two college students who looked like they were studying, and an old man sat in the corner sipping a coffee whilst reading the newspaper. They sat down and waited for their orders to be taken. Sam took this opportunity to take off his jacket and glance at the menu. The waitress strolled her way over to them, hips swaying rhythmically as she went. She had long black hair, and was wearing a red top and dark skirt. The outfit brought out her curves beautifully, but she wasn't the type he'd go for. Artistic designs wound their way up her arms, intertwining to make on huge masterpiece from her wrists to her shoulders. All of a sudden Sam realised she must know he was staring at her, when he blushed. The waitress chuckled.  
"It's okay, kiddo. I wouldn't have them if I felt uncomfortable with people staring at them."  
Sam felt his face turning ruby red for the second time that day, and the waitress giggled some more. "My name's Sandra, but you can call me Sandy," she said as she poured some black coffee into two mugs for Sam and Dean. "I've never seen you round here before, mind telling me where you're from? It's rare we get visitors."  
This was when Dean spoke up, in his usual charming way. "We're just visiting some family that live in the next town along. Mind if I ask you to get me something, Sandy?" He winked. Sandy rolled her eyes, but grinned.  
"Sure, kid. Whatcha getting?"  
"Can I get a hamburger and fries please, and for him-"  
"I'll get a salad, please," Sam interrupted.  
"Sure thing, boys. I'll be right back."  
And with that she strutted off again to pass their orders through to the chef.  
"What is it with you and eating salad? You need to get something more, Sammy. You're growing a lot," Dean pointed out.  
"Thanks, Sherlock, I hadn't noticed," he retorted. "I'll have some fruit when we get back, I have some in my bag that I forgot to eat at lunch. Besides, salad is healthy. I'll just become morbidly obese if I eat like you. Not all of us have metabolisms like roadrunner," he joked. Dean seemed satisfied with Sam's argument, as he didn't say anything more about Sam's strict diet. _He probably just wants to keep in shape for dad,_ Dean thought.  
"So, what's this Hannah like?" He asked, just as Sam had begun to hope that he'd forgotten about their previous conversation.  
"She's nice. Mr. Davenshaw - my new biology teacher - sat me by her."  
"Is that it? Come on, Sammy. What's her personality like? Do you think she's hot?"  
Sam blushed at Dean's question. _Damnit, I really need to learn how to stop doing that,_ he thought to himself. "She's really kind. Also clever. It's like she can read you, you know what I mean? Oh, and she has really long blond hair, but I think she curls it. Her eyes are blue, too."  
"Ooh, Sammy has a crush," Dean teased his younger brother.  
"Shut up, D," he said, at the same time Sandy returned to their table with their orders.  
"One Caesar salad, and one hamburger with fries." She placed them on the wooden surface. "Enjoy your meal, boys," she smiled and walked over to the old man to refill his cup of coffee.  
Luckily Dean forgot to question him further about his new found friends, as he was too engrossed inhaling his hamburger. Sam realised that he was ravenous too, as he quickly polished that salad that had been brought five minutes before. After they had both finished their meals and had full stomachs, Sam put his jacket back on and got up, Dean following. He waited outside the Diner as his brother paid for their meals and got some food to take out. The night air had turned a lot cooler as the sun had almost completely set, and Sam appreciated bringing his jacket as he felt a cool gust of wind blow across his face.  
A few minutes later they were back in the motel, drinking steaming cups of coffee while watching crappy television. Sam must have dozed off while watching it, because the next thing he knew was it was two o'clock in the morning and John was home.


	4. Chapter 4

Sam was awoken by a loud bang as his father entered the room. The stale odour of beer and cigarettes came with him as he sat down on one of the chairs in the lounge which him and Dean has previously fallen asleep in. Deciding to pretend to be asleep was the best option, Sam thought. He lay still as his father eventually drifted off to sleep himself, and then turned to his left to nudge his brother.  
"Dean," he whispered. His brother began to stir and he prayed that he wouldn't be so loud as to wake their father. As soon as he noticed is was Sammy who'd woke him up, his older-brother reflexes kicked in and he sprung awake, grabbing Sam's shoulders and making sure that he was okay.  
"Sammy? Are you-" he cut himself off as he glanced past Sam's wide shoulders to see their father slouched in an armchair behind them. Dean's eyes widened, as he pulled Sam's arm gently as a gesture telling him to get up and follow him. Grasping the handle to the door that led into the bedroom, Dean turned it as quietly as he could, hoping not to make any disturbance. They made it inside, and after closing the door they both sat down on their beds.  
"You should go to sleep." Dean said. With no word's response, Sam lay down and pulled the old duvet up to his chin. He tried not to think about what would wait for them in the morning, and after about an hour of staring at the ceiling, he eventually drifted off to a not-so-deep sleep.

 _Sam looked down at his cot, as he could see his six month old self laying in his cot. This was their old house in Lawrence. He knew exactly what would come next, as always. A drop of blood landed on his head, as he saw the demon spill his blood onto Sammy. He tried screaming; telling him it was wrong, filthy, that he was corrupting an innocent child. None of it worked, though. His vision became blurred as his mother entered the room. Mary was so beautiful, her golden-blond locks tumbling over her shoulders as she rubbed her tired eyes. As she bent to pick up her son, she noticed that the man standing over him was not her husband. She let out a scream, waking John and Dean. It was too late, though. By the time anyone arrived the smoke was choking Sam, the tears streaming down his face. He reached out to help, but each time he seemed to get near to his mother she seemed to get further away..._

Sam woke then, gasping for breath as he clutched helplessly at his chest. His head spun as he thought of the nightmare -more like flashback- he'd just had. Attempting to shake off the dream, Sam ran his hands through his hair and stood up, making his way over to the bathroom, where he splashed cool water over his face and patted it dry with a towel. It was when he looked up that he realised his cheekbones were beginning to show a lot more than they used to, and he had permanent dark circles around his eyes. Letting out a small sigh, Sam tossed the towel on the sink and went back to the bedroom. For a minute he contemplated waking Dean, but it was unfair, he decided. Instead he walked out into the lounge alone and hoped that his father wasn't awake yet.  
When he entered the room, there was no sign of John. Sam nearly allowed himself to become relieved, until he heard a clatter come from the kitchen. _Great,_ he thought, _Dad's awake._ As he walked almost silently into the kitchen, he noticed his father bent over the fridge, looking in - presumably searching for beer or leftover takeout food. Although his father was majorly hungover, his trained militant ears still picked up on his son's quiet footsteps.  
"What are you looking at?" he growled.  
"N-Nothing, sir."  
"That's what I thought. Where's all the food? Did you eat everything? Sammy, you're gonna have to be careful, or else you'll put all that weight back on," he pointed out, gesturing towards his youngest son. Sammy felt a flare of anger as he thought of the lack of food he had left him and his brother, without even the money to buy it. However, he began to become embarrassed as he thought of the "chubby twelve year old" Sammy he knew his father was talking about. Without replying to his father, he stood still, eyes trained on the floor.  
"Make sure you buy something on your way home from school today," he slurred, still slightly drunk from the night/early morning before. John tossed a twenty on the side and stumbled back out of the motel, this time taking the Impala with him, something Sam could tell by the way he heard it roar to life. Letting go of a breath he didn't know he'd been holding, Sam decided he needed to go wake Dean up after all, seems how they'd need to walk to school because their dad had taken the car God knows where.  
He walked into the bedroom and stood over Dean's bed, gently placing his hand on his brother's shoulder to wake him up. Dean woke up, immediately remembering the night before. He looked straight at Sammy, as if to say good morning, but they both knew that he was really just checking to see if John had decided to use him as a punching bag again. Once he had the all-clear, Dean stood up and made his way into the kitchen, in search of the food he had bought to tide them over the night before. Noticing it was gone, he turned to Sammy with a sigh, and said:  
"She's gone, isn't she?" _She_ was Dean's baby - The Impala. The classic American muscle car had been pretty much the only home the boys had known throughout their whole lives, with the exception of Dean's limited memories of Kansas. Sam didn't need to say a word, as his brother's shoulders hunched forwards and he began to pace.  
"So, I'm assuming you've seen him?"  
"Yeah… You could say that." He replied. "He was in the kitchen when I woke up before," not wanting to tell Dean about the nightmare, he said "I think he was looking for something and the noise woke me up."  
His older brother sighed as he patted Sammy on the shoulder, in his way of saying 'everything will be okay', and went to pick up his backpack. He threw the strap on over his shoulder and pulled on his boots, Sam following suit.  
"Come on, the Diner's not far. We have enough time to get something to go and make it to school on time. Besides, it's on the way there."


End file.
